The Problem with Enzo

Chapter 11: A Goodbye Before Goodbye

Hers...

The night after their dive with the whale sharks, the group drifted back to the hotel—some to laughter and card games, others to quiet rest. Ana chose silence. Lia curled against her side, heavy-eyed but smiling, and Ana let the comfort of their small room wrap around them.

A knock came a little later. When she opened the door, Micah and Clarisse stood there, still in swimsuits with towels slung over their shoulders, hair damp from the pool.

“Dinner?” Clarisse asked with a hopeful grin. “Everyone’s heading out. It’ll be fun.”

Micah leaned against the doorframe. “Come on, Ana. You can’t hide in here all night.”

Ana glanced at Lia, already half-asleep against the pillows, her lashes fluttering. She smoothed her daughter’s hair and gave a small smile. “She needs the rest. We’ll just order in.”

Clarisse’s face softened. “That makes sense. She was so excited earlier, I’m not surprised she’s out cold.”

Micah raised a brow. “You sure you’re okay?”

Ana hesitated, then nodded. “I’m fine. Really. Go, have fun.”

They exchanged a quick look but didn’t push her. Clarisse squeezed her arm lightly before they left, their voices fading down the hall.

Soon after, room service arrived, and the hum of the hotel faded into a cocoon of stillness. But even as she ate, Ana knew what she was really avoiding. She wasn’t ready to face Enzo…

______๑♡⁠๑____________๑♡⁠๑______

Hers...

▶︎•၊၊||၊|။||||။၊|။• Falling Slowly – Glen Hansard & Markéta Irglová

▶︎•၊၊||၊|။||||။၊|။• Almost Lover – A Fine Frenzy

Ana should have been exhausted. Hours in the water, sun on her skin, the weight of a long day behind her—her body begged for sleep. Yet even with the lights dimmed and Lia’s gentle breathing beside her, her mind refused to quiet.

She shifted restlessly, eyes tracing the ceiling, listening to the muted hum of the hotel. Every time she closed her eyes, Enzo’s face returned—the way he had watched her that afternoon, as if seeing more of her than she wanted to give away.

She turned on her side, tried counting the rhythm of Lia’s breaths, tried sinking into the warmth of the sheets. Nothing worked. The more she fought it, the more wakeful she became, a knot tightening in her chest.

A knock startled her close to midnight. Lia didn’t stir, her hair fanned across the pillow in soft waves. Ana slipped out of bed, smoothing her daughter’s blanket before crossing the room.

When she opened the door, she froze.

Enzo leaned against the wall, hands buried in his pockets, looking impossibly effortless in the dim hallway light.

“You’re avoiding me,” he said quietly.

Ana’s pulse stuttered. She glanced back at Lia, then drew in a steadying breath. “Let’s talk outside.”

She left a note on the bedside table, brushed her hair back, pulled on a thin long-sleeve over her shorts. One last glance at Lia—safe, dreaming—and she stepped into the night.

They walked along the shoreline in silence, the tide curling around their ankles. Music drifted faintly from a nearby bar, but it felt far away, as though the two of them had slipped into their own world.

Enzo reached for her hand. She flinched back, the motion instinctive, and he stopped walking.

“Don’t you like me?” His voice was low, urgent. “Don’t you feel anything… for me?”

Ana stood a few steps ahead, her back to him. Words tangled on her tongue. Feelings she had buried for years clawed to the surface—fear, longing, hunger, grief. When she turned, her expression was raw, unguarded.

“I don’t sugarcoat things,” she said, her voice unsteady. “I’m… sensitive. Messy. I don’t say the right words, and when I try, they come out wrong.”

Enzo only watched her, his eyes steady. Patient. Listening.

Her chest tightened. “I don’t want to admit this, but… I’m still married. Technically.”

His jaw shifted, but he said nothing.

“No, I don’t love him,” she snapped when his silence stretched. “God, no. But his family has money. Power. Lawyers who don’t care about love or children, only control. If I give them a reason—any reason—they’ll try to take Lia from me.”

Her voice cracked, and she pressed a trembling hand to her chest as if to steady the ache there. “Do you understand what that means?

I have nothing to fight them with. No money. No influence. Not even a stable name to lean on. Just me.” Her throat worked as she forced the words out. “If they wanted to, they could make me look unfit with the stroke of a pen. And then she’d be gone. My daughter—my whole world—ripped away before I could even breathe.”

Her gaze darted towards the sea, shining dark under the moonlight, before it fell back to him, raw and pleading. “So no, Enzo. I can’t be with you. Not for a feeling. Not for something as reckless as this. Because if I lose her, I lose everything I am.”

Enzo moved closer, slow and deliberate, as if giving her time to retreat. She didn’t.

His fingers brushed a strand of hair from her cheek. “You shouldn’t have to live afraid,” he murmured.

Ana’s lips parted, a single tear slipping free. “This is our last night,” she whispered. “That’s all this can ever be.”

Ana’s gaze lingered on his eyes—steady, unwavering, too captivating for her own good. For one fragile moment, she thought, maybe he isn’t what I feared. Maybe Enzo is different. Maybe he’s not the danger I built in my head.

But then her chest tightened with the truth. What did she have to give him? Nothing but scars and shadows. Nothing but the broken pieces of a woman who could only offer him one recipe: disaster.

Her breath hitched, and before she could stop herself, her hand lifted—hesitant at first, then certain—tracing the line of his jaw. His skin was warm beneath her fingertips, too real, too close. She wanted to memorize him, just once, before she let him go.

And so she kissed him. A soft, trembling press of her lips, meant as a goodbye. A mercy.

But Enzo didn’t let her go.

With a sudden, hungry sound, he caught her waist and pulled her flush against him, deepening the kiss with a passion that stole the ground from beneath her feet. What began as hesitation turned molten—his mouth urgent, greedy, consuming.

Her breath shattered, her fingers tangling desperately at the back of his neck as if to anchor herself. The world dissolved to the heat of him, the pounding of his heart, the strength of his hand sliding against the small of her back, pulling her impossibly closer. His lips claimed hers again and again, each kiss more demanding, more searing, until she had no choice but to yield. It wasn’t gentle anymore. It was raw, aching, undeniable.

When he finally tore his mouth from hers, he didn’t step away. His forehead rested against hers, his voice ragged, wrecked. “You drive me insane,” he whispered. “Do you even know what you do to me?”

She couldn’t answer. She was already undone.

They stayed together until dawn, wrapped in a borrowed blanket on the sand, their legs tangled, the waves lulling them in rhythm.

Enzo didn’t push further than that kiss. Instead, he talked—about his life in the States, about the family who shaped him, about parents he adored and the kind of love he believed she and Lia deserved. His voice was low, earnest, painting a picture Ana was almost afraid to imagine.

She listened, smiling faintly, letting herself pretend for one fragile night. Pretend that kind of world could be hers. Pretend she could belong somewhere beside him.

But deep down, she knew it wasn’t. And that made it both sweeter and sharper.

By sunrise, he walked her back to the hotel, his hand never leaving hers. At the door, he bent to kiss her forehead—a tender seal, quiet and final. Ana stepped inside, heart trembling, and found Lia still curled beneath the sheets, dreaming in peace.

______๑♡⁠๑____________๑♡⁠๑______

Hers...

▶︎•၊၊||၊|။||||။၊|။• The Night We Met – Lord Huron

▶︎•၊၊||၊|။||||။၊|။• Say Something – A Great Big World & Christina Aguilera

The next morning, the group gathered for breakfast at the breezy seaside restaurant. The air smelled of coffee and sea salt, the chatter easy and unhurried. The table was crowded with mismatched sunglasses, damp hair pulled into buns, and half-packed bags waiting to be dragged onto ferries and planes. Coffee steamed between plates of pandesal and bacon.

Ana set a small bundle in front of each of them—brown paper packages tied neatly with twine. “Before we head back to our own chaos, I want to give you something.”

Clarisse’s eyes lit up. “Pasalubong?” she asked brightly, then explained when Chris raised a brow. “It’s what we call souvenirs or gifts, in Tagalog. Lia taught me last night. She’s our little teacher.”

“Better than pasalubong,” Ana said with a laugh. “Kapeng barako. Strong. Just like this group.”

“Strong?” Chris grinned. “Like Brent’s farts strong?”

“Hey! That was one time,” Brent groaned, burying his face in his hands as the whole table erupted into laughter.

They teased and unwrapped their gifts, the banter spilling as freely as the coffee. But Ana’s smile faltered when her gaze slipped across the table. Enzo sat opposite her, composed as ever, but there was a gravity in his eyes—a private weight that seemed to rest solely between them.

Cups lifted in a toast—Micah clinking his glass against Clarisse’s, Ashley beaming, Chris already reaching for more bacon. Ana lifted hers too, and for one fragile instant, she let herself believe she belonged here. That maybe this circle of lighthearted noise had room for someone like her.

But as the plates emptied and bags were zipped shut, reality pressed close again. Ashley’s embrace was warm, lingering. “You’re family now, Ana,” she whispered. “You’re stuck with us.”

The others echoed it in their own way—promises of visits, half-serious plans for trips, jokes about tacos and stolen recipes. Their goodbyes were easy, expectant, threaded with the certainty of seeing each other again.

Enzo said nothing. He didn’t need to. His nearness beside her, the steady brush of his hand when they moved, the quiet burn of his eyes across the table—those were the words he would not speak aloud.

Ana took one last look around: the laughter, the smell of coffee, the warmth of belonging she hadn’t expected to stumble into.

This was the goodbye before the goodbye.

And already, her chest ached with the weight of not being ready.

She told herself not to expect anything more—that this was enough, this fleeting slice of joy she had been allowed. But her heart betrayed her, leaning toward the possibility that maybe, just maybe, Enzo would stop her. That he’d speak, or reach for her, or give her something to hold onto beyond this moment.

The hope rose uninvited, dangerous as it was tender. Because she knew hope was cruel; it cracked you open, only to leave you emptier when it slipped away. Still, she couldn’t stop herself.

Part of her wished he’d say the words she was too afraid to admit she longed to hear. And part of her prayed he wouldn’t—because if he did, she wasn’t sure she’d be strong enough to walk away.

But the day in Cebu slipped by, steady and unrelenting, and no words came from Enzo. He moved beside her as always—present, attentive—but silent. She carried that silence like a stone in her chest, bracing herself with every passing hour.

By the afternoon, Ana and Lia were at Cebu airport, the tide of travelers sweeping them forward, the hum of departures echoing through the high glass ceilings. And still, she kept glancing back—half-hoping, half-dreading—that Enzo would appear, that he’d break the silence.

But all she had was the memory of his gaze across the breakfast table, and the ache of everything left unspoken.